The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1887-04-29

ana exnauHtIuE weeds growing Mxf1fI-
antlY These he is compelled to destroy
| with light-running harrow Or pillow, but
| he derives some sweet from the bitter IN
1 the thought that if his land is capable Of
producing such gigantic weeds it can
| grow other and useful products as well.
So his pillow turns this rank growth under
the soil, and its decaying rankness sends
yigor to the hungry roots of the growing
Seeding.
Then he discovers that an useless lat
eral growth afflicts his trees. He con-
suits authority and finds this must be
stopped. So he goes over his five-acre
grove of 300 trees and prunes them of
these suckers.
Next it is evident he cannot pillow near
the trees as it destroys the surface roots.
| So over the grove, abouteach tree, he must
travel, hoeing a circle about each vary
ing in dimensions according to the size
of the trunk. Then he notices that
the sun bakes the soil into a hard
crust through which the roots, with
difficulty, penetrate. Now he is forced
to go into the pine woods and rake
the fallen needles into heaps, then
spread them about the ground near the
trees. This shading called mulching-
preserves an even temperature and al
lows moisture to collect. He will feel
inclined now to sit down and take rest.
So he may breathe little more rejuven-
alton from the atmosphere. But this
won't do.
The trees begin to turn little yellow.
He finds they need additional food
which the soil does not supply. Some
where on his place he has found a
dried-up lake or pond. He digs up the
bed with his shovel and finds It full of
decayed vegetable matter. He loads it
on a wagon, hauls it into small heaps,
throws quick lime over them to ferment
the sourness usual in such decay, then
takes it to the trees and scatters this-now
muck-about the roots; lastly he hoes it
into the ground so the roots may reach it
promptly. "Whe-ew !" he exclaims, and
thinks of the old maxim mo cross, no
crown" He would philosophize, but
finds that while so engaged the weeds
are again stretching skyward.
Then rebegins the same round of toll
just given, with many more details added
of which he never dreamed. He looks at
his wife; she is cheerful or tries to be
and swelters away in the hot kitchen
until she discovers that early morning
and sunset are the only times for cook
ing in Florida. 1t isn't long before cold
lunch appears upon the noontime table
and after little more adjusting she can
find time to sit down and fan herself
with her apron. The children in almost
aboriginal scarcity of garments roll
about the ground in the shade of some
live-oak unless the advent of stranger
forces them to hurried and modest
scamper. About evening, our serious
friend, very serious by this time, lights
his pipe and tries to think if he is happy,
or to discover signs of progress.
He has been in the State say year !;
his little trees have more top to them !;
look fresh and healthy. He has sweet
potatoes growing and perhaps some corn.
Has had garden in its season, and some
how has managed to feed his family and
keep reasonably cheerful. He is honest
with himself, however, and acknowledges
that this he could not have done without
drawing slyly on his dwindling savings.
Now the question arises, What will be
the result of next years work ?" "Can
manage to support self and family wholly
on the results of my labors here?" He
thinks probably he can. He has discov-
cred cheap method of fertilizing and
cultivation which will also give pleasant
employment to his wife and children
and easily will provide fresh meat for the
table. He has heard that chicken raising
in connection with grove solves the
question of light "soil working" to a
great extent and fertilizes powerfully.
Then he thinks of his sweet pota-
toes-which grow easily and abund-
antly-his garden, his corn, his melons;
the chances he has of selling these things
and the family supply he can derive from
them, and concludes that he will try it
for another year at any rate. So he lays
aside his pipe, creeps under his mosquito
netting and drops into the sleep of the
weary. c. M. S.